What Remains
by Surreal13
Summary: In the aftermath of "Out of the Box" Neal's friends rally around him. Spoilers for entire first season of White Collar. Non-slash, friendship fic. Rated for mentions of violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** What Remains

**Author:** **surreal_44**

**Beta** **ericadawn16** Big thanks to her for putting up with my terrible writing.

**Summary:** In the aftermath, Neal's friends rally around him.

**Rating:** PG for mentions of death :p

**Characters/Pairing:** Neal; Peter/Elizabeth

**Warnings:** Angst. Heaps of angst. Everyone angsty.

**Spoilers:** For entire series, especially "Out of the Box"

**Author's Note:** I have too many things to write and not enough time or brain power. This fic is one of the many, many ideas on how things went right after "Out of the Box".

* * *

Elizabeth was gazing at the flowers Neal had sent, her finger mindlessly tracing the petals of a delicate pink lily. She was worrying and wondering what was happening with Peter and Neal. She knew her husband had gone to make one last ditch effort to keep his partner in New York. She also knew that he didn't expect to succeed. They both knew that Neal was powerless against Kate's siren song.

Her fingers brushed against the petals of the only red flower in the bouquet, a carnation, just as the phone rang. She was expecting to hear from him, and was prepared to offer him all the love and support she could. She was not prepared for what she heard on the other end of the line. Peter's voice was raw with emotion as he described the explosion, told her about Kate (no body, presumed dead). He did not tell her that he was all right, or that Neal would be fine.

"Honey, about Neal --" Peter sounded distant, as if he had moved the phone away from his body for a moment. There were voices in the background, Neal's plaintive tone reaching her even through the commotion, tearing at her heart.

Peter sighed and said, "I have to go. They want to talk to Neal. He's asking if I'll stay with him. I can't leave him."

"Bring him home," Elizabeth said in a voice as steady as she could muster. Her heart felt like it had shattered when Peter described Neal's anguish. It hurt to breathe, to think of the pain he was going through. He needed to be with those who loved him. She took a deep breath and added, "When this is done, bring him home."

"Thank you," Peter murmured relief evident in his voice. "It might be late," he warned her and then he was gone, the line going dead between them as he ended their connection. Elizabeth sat in silence for a moment longer, picturing what would be happening now.

Peter would take care of Neal and protect him from bureaucrats and officials who would try to wring some sort of confession from him. Neal would be in no shape to answer them. Peter would use himself as a buffer, redirecting their irritation with Neal towards him until he could convince them to release them from custody. Even so, it would probably be hours before he would be able to extricate them from this mess.

She would be able to get the guest room ready, make a few phone calls and get dinner ready. As she ran up the stairs, Satchmo faithfully trotting behind her, Elizabeth dialed Mozzie's number and hoped that he would still answer.

**~*****~**

Five hours later, Neal and Peter arrived. At some point both men had showered, the clothes they'd worn at the scene gone. Neal had quietly begged to be allowed to change, and Peter had agreed. Hughes arranged for it, pulling favors to help them not only get cleaned up, but to smooth the way for Neal to be released into Peter's custody.

Elizabeth greeted them at the door. Peter drank in the sight of her while he supported an exhausted Neal. The younger man seemed barely aware of his surroundings. It wasn't until Peter gently eased him onto the sofa and Satchmo wagged his way over to him that he finally took notice of where he was. A small frown slipped onto his face and he looked up at the Burkes in confusion.

"Peter? Elizabeth?" The normally smooth voice was hoarse and raspy from screaming. El seated herself next to him and took his hand in hers. Red-rimmed eyes gazed at her with uncertainty. "Why am I…I thought you said you were taking me home. This is your house."

Peter sat on his other side and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We thought you would do better with a little company," Peter explained carefully. "I can take you to June's if you want."

"No…no. I just…" Neal floundered, trying to form a coherent sentence. Elizabeth squeezed his hand and pressed a kiss to his pale cheek in understanding. With all the things that had happened the past week, Neal must be wondering how he could be welcomed back into their home.

"You're our friend, Neal. We take care of our own when trouble comes," El said in a firm voice. "Now I'm going to heat up some soup and I want you to eat a little. Then you can get some rest."

Too tired to argue, he let his shoulders droop and he nodded in agreement. Satchmo had seated himself at Neal's feet and was refusing to budge. While the conman absently petted the lab, Peter followed his wife to the kitchen.

The moment they were out of sight of Neal, Peter pulled Elizabeth into a hug and simply clung to her. He needed the closeness, needed her scent and needed her to wash away some of the ugliness from earlier in the day. El held him, knowing that he needed more. This wasn't the time, however, and they broke apart reluctantly with a gentle kiss.

"Lauren brought some homemade soup," El said as she opened the fridge. "I don't think Neal will eat too much tonight and its light so it won't be too heavy for him."

Peter made a muffled sound of agreement and opened the pantry to get some crackers. "He's in rough shape, El. I don't…I'm not good at this sort of thing. I don't know how to fix this for him."

Elizabeth took the box from her husband's hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. "You can't fix it, but you can be there for him. You know him better than anyone, Peter. You'll know what he needs."

The rest of the dinner preparation continued in silence. Peter got the bowls ready, Elizabeth arranged some crackers and cheese on a plate, and they went out to the dining room together. Neal was where they had left him, on the sofa with Sachmo's head on his lap. Although he still looked wane and just a shadow of his usual self, the younger man seemed more collected than when he had first arrived. He looked up at their approaching footsteps and even managed a small smile for them.

"Hey," he said softly by way of greeting. He gave Satchmo a final pat and shuffled to his feet with a moan. All the aches and pains that adrenaline had hidden suddenly hit him and he wobbled for a second. Peter was beside him in an instant to help steady him.

"Easy," Peter encouraged him gently. He obviously had some clue of what was happening to Neal. When he knew the conman was more stable on his feet, Peter stepped back rather than make him feel crowded.

Even the short distance to the table seemed to wear Neal out, and he sank onto the chair. He was grateful although his skin blanched at the sight of food. "I don't know if I can," he murmured with regret. Peter rested a comforting hand on his head; ruffling his hair in an almost fatherly way.

"Just a few bites, all right? Then you can go rest," Peter coaxed. Neal hesitated but finally nodded in agreement. Peter and El took their seats and they served him a small bowl of soup. The first few minutes of dinner were silent. Neal stirred his soup aimlessly while his friends tried to watch him without being obvious about it.

Finally El spoke up, wanting to break the silence. "Mozzie checked the house for bugs while you were gone," she reported. At the mention of the other con's name, Neal looked up. "He didn't find any. He said he'll drop in tomorrow if you're up for company," she added.

She didn't tell them that Mozzie had been almost out of his mind with worry for his friend. El had finally convinced him to leave with a promise to call him after Neal arrived and give him an update. She was concerned that too much company might well push Neal past his limit.

"Haversham. Good man," Peter said, a smile tugging at his lips. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that Neal had stopped playing with his food. "And you said Lauren brought the soup?" he asked casually. Neal ate one spoonful of soup.

Elizabeth noticed it too, so she carried on the conversation. Lauren and Jones both dropped by. Lauren had brought prepared food and groceries. Jones had gone to June's home to pack another overnight bag for Neal, since his items from the airport had been seized as part of the investigation. June, when she heard the news, personally packed the bag, and then gave Jones some money to buy other essential items that Neal would probably need over the next few days.

Neal continued to slowly work at his food while Peter and El talked back and forth. As the conversation came to a close, Neal pushed his bowl away with a resigned sigh. He hadn't managed to eat much, but it was better than not eating at all.

"I'm sorry," Neal apologized. "I just can't eat any more." He moved to take the bowl to the kitchen but Elizabeth stopped him. She cleaned up the table, leaving Neal and Peter alone. The silence stretched out between them. Peter wasn't sure what he could say to help Neal, or if the other man even wanted to talk yet. While they sat, Peter studied his friend's worn features and his gaze softened.

"Why don't you go change?" he suggested. "If you're still sore I can get you some Tylenol, and you can get some rest."

The younger man jerked his head in a weary nod and trudged up the stairs. Peter helped El finish cleaning up the dishes. Neal's light tread was above their heads as he moved around the guest room, and a few minutes later, they heard the sound of the shower sputter to life.

They took advantage of their time alone to simply hold each other. They were both wrapped up in their thoughts and worries, but it was enough to be held and cherished for just a moment. Elizabeth pulled away first, but not before giving Peter a gentle kiss. It would be a long night, and they needed to focus their energy on Neal.

He went into the family room and turned on the news to see what was being said about the explosion. Nothing new or useful, as it turned out. Why do they call it news if it's not really new? Peter wondered absently. The shower upstairs shut off, and he clicked to a repeat of "The Office". Neal definitely didn't need to hear all the horrible details over again.

Peter was flipping through the channel menu, trying to find them something else to watch when he heard a slight rustle behind him. He turned around in his chair to see Neal, dressed in a pair of loose fitting grey lounge pants and a white t-shirt. With his damp hair and forlorn expression, he looked like he was twelve.

Elizabeth smiled at him and pointed to the sofa, where she had made a cozy nest for Neal in case he had decided to join them. "You want to sit down?" she asked gently. "We were going to watch a movie."

The invitation seemed to break something in Neal and his face crumpled. Concerned, Elizabeth went to him just as the first wrenching sob shook his slender frame. She walked him over to the sofa and let him cry against her shoulder. She smoothed his hair back and pressed a kiss to his temple, which started a fresh flood of tears.

Peter watched in consternation as Elizabeth mouthed for him to come over and help her. He wasn't good at this sort of thing, but Neal was his friend so he had to at least try. The FBI agent cautiously made his way over to his wife and partner, and seated himself next to Neal. Unsure what to do, Peter settled for settled for an awkward pat on the younger man's shoulder. To his surprise, it seemed to help, so he did it again.

"It's all right," Peter murmured. He knew it wasn't really all right, but that's what people said, wasn't it? He continued to pat Neal, and murmur useless, meaningless things while El stroked her hands through the dark hair. Between the two of them, Neal finally began to relax, his sobs diminishing to raspy breathing and the occasional sniffle.

As Neal's eyes began to droop, Peter knew they couldn't leave him this way. It wouldn't be that comfortable so El helped him move the sleepy Neal into a stretched out position on the sofa.

Peter coaxed him awake just enough so that he could take some Tylenol. El propped his head up with a pillow to make him more comfortable and draped a blanket over him to keep him warm. He seemed ready to drift out, but suddenly his eyes flew open and he grabbed Elizabeth's arm.

"Don't leave," Neal begged, his body tensing as if he was going to sit up. He didn't seem quite awake. El tried not to cry herself as she realized nightmares were already beginning for him. Very gently she pressed him back onto the couch and smoothed his rumpled hair away from his face. He blinked up at her in confusion, and tried once again to sit up.

Peter was just returning from kitchen when he saw Neal's frightened face. He knelt beside the sofa and without thinking, took the younger man's hand in his own. "What's wrong, Neal?" he asked with concern.

Some of the wildness left Neal's eyes as he came more awake, and he flushed as if embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I was...confused."

"Tell me what's wrong," Peter insisted. He wasn't letting Neal off that easily. He hadn't at the airport, and he wouldn't do it now. Refusing to let go of Neal's hand, he waited for an answer. The younger man squirmed uncomfortably and gave El a pleading look, which she ignored.

"I was afraid you had left. That you were leaving," Neal admitted reluctantly. He yawned and tiredly scrubbed at his eyes. "I…don't want to be alone right now. 'M afraid," he added, his words starting to slur as exhaustion pulled him back towards sleep.

"We're not leaving," Peter said in a steady voice. He waited for Neal to open his eyes and look at him, and then continued. "You're not alone in this, Neal." He squeezed the hand he was holding and said fondly, "Get some sleep. El and I will be here if you need us."

"Thank you," Neal whispered as his lashes drifted shut. Long after Neal slept, Peter remained by his side.

**~tbc**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed this story and who were kind enough to add it to their favorites or alert list. I am surprised and gratified by the response.

I hope you enjoy this next chapter; I had a totally different plan for it but the story grew and changed, and I had to go along with it.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own this, alas. Please don't sue me.

* * *

_Long after Neal slept, Peter remained by his side._

Peter sat on the edge of the coffee table, hands clasped loosely on his lap as he stared blankly at a spot on the wall. Elizabeth let him be for the moment. She knew what he was doing. He was pulling apart the day, looking at every angle, putting pieces together and wondering what he could have done differently. It was always like this when an operation went south or when a criminal eluded capture. Past experience had taught her to let him work through things on his own for a while, and then approach him.

"Honey, I'm going to get the sleeping bags, all right?" she said to her husband. Peter mumbled a response; evidence enough that he had heard her but that he wasn't really listening. His attention had turned back to Neal, who had shifted and let out a small moan of fear. Peter rested his hand on the younger man's shoulder to comfort him. Neal settled back into his exhausted sleep with a little sigh.

Satisfied that Neal was resting once more, Peter rubbed a hand across his eyes and stood to take El in his arms. Elizabeth leaned against his broad chest and offered silent comfort to him. She ran her hands along his back. The muscles were taut with tension and she tried to rub some of tightness away.

"I love you," he murmured against her temple. He tipped her head back and pressed a kiss to her lips. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening. What did you say to me?"

"I'm getting the sleeping bags. I know we can't leave him, but we can try to rest a little," she responded, her voice soft. They kept their voices low so that their guest wouldn't be disturbed. At the moment Neal slept on, oblivious to everything around him. Elizabeth was glad; now if only she could convince Peter to get some rest as well she would be happy.

"Thank you," Peter said. His hands traced the curve of her body and then reluctantly let go. "I need to call Diana, see what all has been going on." He sounded tired but his expression was determined.

Elizabeth nodded in understanding. People had died; Neal could have been killed. Fowler was possibly in danger. For that matter, they were probably in danger too. Peter would want to know what was happening; would work on every angle until he was satisfied that no more harm would come to those he cared about.

"I have to call Mozzie and let him know how Neal is," she said to Peter. He nodded absently his thoughts already back on the case as he walked into the kitchen to have his conversation. Elizabeth watched him go, her heart aching. He was going to wear himself out if she didn't keep an eye on him.

Before she made the trek up the stairs, El tucked the blanket a little more around Neal. He was so deeply asleep that he didn't stir, not even when she kissed him lightly on the forehead.

Satisfied that Neal was as comfortable as could be expected, Elizabeth went up the stairs. When she reached the master bedroom she pulled out the new prepaid cell Moz had given to her a few hours earlier and used the speed dial to call his new number. For once she had agreed with his paranoia about the government. A small smile graced her lips despite the seriousness of the situation. He was certainly a character, but he was a good friend to Neal.

She barely heard the phone ring on her end before the bald conman's voice greeted her. "About time, Mrs. Suit," he said. He was trying to sound condescending. Even though she didn't know him very well she could still pick up the anxiety in his voice. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to create a diversion to divert the safety brigade and come to the door to see what's been going on."

"Hello to you, Moz," Elizabeth said. She brushed her dark hair behind her ears and sat on the bed with a sigh. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting. They took a while at the office and then we were just trying to let him settle in."

"Are you sure these people can be trusted? I don't like Feds. You can't trust them." Any other day Elizabeth might have argued with Neal's strange friend, but after today she had to agree with him.

"I know, Moz. The team is led by Agent Jones," El assured him. Before Peter had arrived the team had been in place. Jones had vetted the people himself, and knew that they were all loyal to Peter – and to Neal. Despite what Mozzie may have thought, most of Peter's team liked Neal and would protect him as fiercely as they would any of their own.

"He won't let any harm come to Neal, I promise." There was silence on the other end, as if Mozzie was carefully considering what he was going to say.

"For the record, if he has to be with someone besides me, I guess I'm glad it's you two," Mozzie said with resignation. "But," he added quickly. "Don't tell the Suit I said that."

Elizabeth let out a short laugh. "Not a word, I swear. I'd let you talk to Neal but he fell asleep a little while ago…unless you want me to wake him…?" She let the question dangle, but she hoped Mozzie would let his friend get the rest he desperately needed.

"No, let him rest," Mozzie said. "I want to come by tomorrow." There was a pause, followed by a reluctant, "Please?"

"Of course," El agreed immediately. "He'll want to see you. Come around ten? That'll give him time to get his bearings."

"Yeah, of course. Don't worry, Mrs. Suit, the Feds aren't the only ones keeping an eye out for you tonight." With that he hung up before she could ask him where he was hiding.

**~*****~**

Elizabeth was in a happier mood as she carried the sleeping bags down the stairs. Reassuring Mozzie that Neal was safe had helped to remind her that their safety was one less problem they had to worry about. She was touched that Mozzie was staking out their house, watching the Feds and watching for any other trouble that might show up.

Neal hadn't moved much since El had gone upstairs. She noticed that he had nestled a little deeper into the couch and he had shifted so that his head was more comfortable. His breathing had deepened and an occasional light snore escaped from his parted lips.

She had to smile as she began to unroll the sleeping bags. She had just started to arrange the bedding so that it would be a little more comfortable when Satchmo trotted over to investigate the bedding. Anxious to help, he sprawled over the makeshift beds with a grunt and looked up at Elizabeth with a pleased expression on his face. After two failed attempts to get the dog to move, she gave up on making up their beds for the moment.

Satchmo let out a satisfied grunt and put his head down, already half asleep. Elizabeth gave the old dog a pat on the head and went into the kitchen to see if Peter had any news on the explosion. She bit down on her lip to hide her smile as she pushed the door open and heard Peter say in an exasperated voice, "No, that's probably Haversham. Short bald guy with glasses?"

Peter snorted at something that was said on the other end of the line. "Of course he looks suspicious. Don't worry about it; he's harmless. Make sure someone keeps track of him. We don't need anyone going after him too."

Of course Peter would think to keep an eye on Mozzie. Elizabeth felt her heart warm just a little bit. He tried to act like he didn't care, but Peter was a good man. He would protect everyone who was important to Neal. She briefly wondered how Mozzie would feel about Peter putting a protective detail on him, and she decided to ask the conman the next time she spoke to him. It would be an entertaining conversation, she was sure.

"All right, keep me updated," Peter said and with a weary sigh, he hung up the phone. He obviously hadn't heard El come in because he hadn't greeted her. Thinking that he was still alone, the FBI agent let his shoulders drop and he covered his eyes with a trembling hand.

"Peter?" Elizabeth asked in a quiet voice. He turned in surprise, his stoic mask carefully back in place. When he saw that she was alone, he slouched against the counter top and ran a hand through his hair. "Are you all right?" she pressed when he remained silent.

"Hey honey," he said with a small shake of his head. His mind was still wrapped up in whatever he and Diana had been discussing.. "I'm just…thinking. How's Neal?" Peter was not nearly as good at deflecting questions as Neal was. Elizabeth didn't push him. When he was ready to talk, he would.

"Oh, he's sleeping. Snoring, actually," El responded with a small smile. Some of the tight lines around Peter's eyes softened. That was exactly the response she had been hoping to get. Anything was better than her husband brooding all night. "I thought you were kidding when you said he snored."

Peter's lips lifted in a half smile. "He wouldn't believe you if you told him. He got offended when I told him." Peter toyed with his empty coffee mug and set it on the counter. "I wish I could fix this for him. I don't know what to do to help."

The smile slipped off his face and El hugged him. "Hon, you're doing everything right," Elizabeth assured him. He kissed the top of her head and leaned against her while she rubbed a hand along his back. They were quiet for a few minutes and his body began to relax.

"We have a full team watching the house," he finally broke the silence. "Jones is heading it up. No real news from the explosion. They don't even know how many casualties there are." He shivered against Elizabeth. "The flight manifest had eight passengers and two crew members, but I guess right now it's impossible to be certain…They're trying to track everyone down…"

His voice trailed off into choked silence. Elizabeth remained silent – what could she possibly say to make him feel better? She continued to rub her hand over Peter's back and waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she stopped with the back massage and kissed him on the cheek.

"It'll be all right," she said, because she couldn't think of anything else that would be more comforting. She remembered the conversation she had walked in on, and that reminded her that she had better let him know to expect company in the morning. "Mozzie is coming over in the morning. I told him to come around ten."

Peter nodded. "That'll be good. I have to go in to the office for more questioning. They were done with Neal but they wanted to keep me there to talk with OPR about Fowler." He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I have to explain why I shot him. And we have to sort out the mess OPR made of the arrangement with Neal."

He looked so unhappy; Elizabeth wished there was a way to make things easier for him. She had nothing to offer him but herself, and hope that somehow that would be enough to carry him through this ordeal. She had forgotten about him shooting Fowler; their conversation from this morning may as well have taken place a century ago. She remembered that her biggest concern at the time was that he would lose his job over what had happened with the crooked OPR agent. The fear was still there, but Peter seemed confident that he would come out on top of things.

As if he was reading her thoughts, Peter pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, "Things will be fine. Fowler is the one who has the tough explanations, not me. The meeting tomorrow is just so the bureau has its paperwork in order. I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you make some coffee and watch a movie?"

He was really asking her to make coffee because he was hopeless with the coffee maker and he didn't want Neal to be alone. She didn't mind.

"All right," Elizabeth agreed with a smile. One last kiss and he left her alone in the kitchen. Only when she was certain he was gone did she hide her face in her hands and let a few tears fall.

~*****~

Peter walked as quietly as he could through the living room. Neal was sound asleep on the couch and he didn't want to wake the younger man. Satchmo was curled up on the sleeping bags. His tail thumped a few times when Peter came in the room, and for a minute Peter thought the dog might follow him. Satchmo seemed to consider his options. Then he snorted and put his head back down, indicating his dismissal of Peter's importance.

It figured that even the dog wouldn't leave Neal. The younger man was a royal pain in the ass. Being mixed up with him for a few months had put Peter's career in danger more times than he cared to count. He drove Peter crazy almost every day – on purpose -- the little snot. And yet…even with this mess with OPR and Kate, Peter didn't have any regrets. He just hoped that when the grief abated Neal wouldn't have any either.

A fond smile tugged at the corners of Peter's mouth as he looked at the slumbering form of his friend. Neal seemed so young in his sleep, curled up on the sofa with his dark hair tousled and his face still blotched from tears. The blanket had slid off his bare feet, leaving them exposed. Without thinking about it, Peter tucked the blanket back around him. Neal let out another snore and moved his feet, trying to get them warm.

The FBI agent watched for a moment longer and then turned away. He made his way slowly up the stairs, feeling the aches from struggling with Neal on the tarmac. That was only part of his excuse for wanting – no needing – a shower. He felt like he could still feel ashes on his skin and hair. He remembered after September 11th, after the towers had fallen, how many showers he had taken to try to get rid of the ashes and dirt from that terrible day.

Felling old and worn, Peter turned the shower on and stripped out of his clothes. He tossed them in the hamper and then hopped into the shower without waiting for the water to heat up. The cool water helped revive him a little as he scrubbed down. Unbidden, the image of Kate going back into the plane as he arrived took over his thoughts.

He closed his eyes, but that only made things worse. He could see the plane explode. Neal's horror and anguish beat at him like a physical blow while he struggled to keep the younger man from racing to the blazing plane. The worst moment was when the fight left Neal's body and he collapsed against Peter. He'd pressed his face into Peter's chest and keened. Then he had been silent. The wind shifted and they were hit with a fine dusting of hot ash.

Kate's ashes.

He had never liked Kate. He had discouraged Neal from looking for her. He had even warned her off of Neal. When she refused he had offered to get her whatever she wanted from him. He didn't think she loved Neal (still didn't think she loved him). But this…he didn't want this. He would never have…he should have helped Neal with the music box. He could have maybe found a way around Fowler, or offered shelter to Kate. He could have…

Tears leaked out from beneath Peter's closed lashes. He had thought that it was strange that OPR had Neal as an undercover agent. Why hadn't he gotten Kate off the plane? He should have realized that the young couple would be in danger. He may not have been able to save everyone, but he maybe could have saved Kate.

Kate, whose ashes he had washed down the drain earlier that day. Who, he was trying to be rid of in this very instant. Guilt and shame clawed in his belly, twisting his burning gut until it was a different kind of pain.

His stomach twisted and he gagged, barely making it from the shower to the toilet before he became ill. He retched several times as the explosion played over in his mind. Neal could have been on that plane. The thought of having Neal's ashes cover him was too much for Peter to bear. He vomited until he cried, and then he cried for what was lost, and what might still be lost in the coming days.

Later. When he could be with El he would let himself go again. Right now he had to hold on and hope that Neal would someday forgive him for his failures. When his stomach calmed a little, Peter struggled to his feet and stumbled back into the shower. He let the warm water pelt down on him and wash away the traces of his tears.

**~tbc**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Notes: **Big thanks to everyone who has read this story! Wow, I never expected it to do so well. So thank you all so much. I'd love to express my thanks to all the kind folks who took the time to review; I really appreciate it more than you know. Thanks to everyone who added this story to their comms, added it to their favorites, or alerts. I am grateful to you all.  
_

_Just a few notes on this chapter: It's shorter than the other two because I just couldn't get it to cut off at a clean spot. I hope that you still enjoy this chapter. I took forever writing it, and it's still not perfect, but I am at the point I have to just let it go. :-) The good news is the next chapters are nearly done, so the wait shouldn't be too long on them. :-D  
_

_**Big thanks go to Enfleurage, who waited for forever for me to send her something. **I didn't get it to you in good shape to begin with, and then I decided to take the plunge without a full beta run first. Thank you for your patience, and I hope maybe the next chapter we can collaborate together. **To the lovely Elrhiarhodan, who gave me priceless advice that I still somehow failed to follow, THANK YOU **even though I suck at writing, you are always so supportive. I appreciate it.  
_

_**I am also in the debt of gin2001, who held my hand through this whole process. **She pointed out many, many errors. I'm sure there are still plenty of things wrong with this story, but my gratitude __really knows no bounds __to her for her honesty and helpful suggestions. _

_**Disclaimer: **__Please don't sue me, Jeff Eastin. I know you own White Collar and the characters. I just want to borrow them._

___

* * *

_

_He let the warm water pelt down on him and wash away the traces of his tears._

By the time he was out of the shower and dried off, Peter was back in control of his emotions. The guilt and grief were still present but at least now he didn't feel as if they were tearing him apart. He could return his focus on Neal without being distracted by his own issues, and try to figure out a way to keep his partner together over the next few days. Aside from that one moment of weakness when he'd sobbed in Peter's arms, the younger man had been quiet and withdrawn, too stunned by the explosion and Kate's death to fully register that his own life was in danger, or that he could be placed back in jail if some higher up decided that those papers were illegal. Peter had taken preventative measures to protect Neal, and he knew Hughes was dealing with the other potential problem; at the moment he was more concerned about what would happen once Neal's shock wore off.

Peter feared that any tenuous self-control his partner had left would completely snap in the coming days. Neal was unpredictable at the best of times; when Kate was involved he had a severe lack of impulse control that made the situation more volatile. With her gone there was no telling what he would get himself into. Eventually he'd run - there was no doubt in Peter's mind that his partner would take off as soon as he was able to. When that happened, Peter wasn't sure even he would be able to find Neal in time to stop him from doing something stupid, and that thought terrified him.

His mind scrambled over the possibilities - Neal dead in an alley; Neal dead in the park. Neal simply vanished, erased as if he had never existed. He had to find a way to keep Neal with them, to protect him from the outside influences and from himself. There was a delicate balance between forcing Neal to stay and giving him a reason to want to remain with them. The question was what could he use to tether Neal to them without making him feel more trapped than he already was?

_Neal didn't want to stay before_ a nasty little voice whispered in Peter's mind. _What could you possibly offer him now that would make him change his mind?_

He didn't have an answer for that as he threw on some clothes. He wasn't good at this emotional stuff – not like El, who had a real knack for knowing what to say and do to make people feel better. She had a good understanding of Neal and in some ways, she understood him better than he did. She could probably come up with a few suggestions on how to divert Neal's restless energy into something productive.

Normally Peter would give a case to his partner to work on, but at this point he wasn't even sure if Neal was still working for the FBI. He wasn't sure if _he _was still working for the FB. He had shot Fowler and who knows what the man was saying about that. With both their futures so uncertain, Peter would have to find something else tangible and goal-oriented to keep the younger man busy and out of trouble.

_You can do this_. _You can do this; you have Elizabeth to help you. _Peter tried to tell himself as he prepared to leave the room. He wasn't sure if he could be the emotional support Neal needed, or if the other man would want him to be involved at all in his grieving process. His partner was intensely private about his emotions even now, and was only recently opening up to him. Peter counted himself fortunate that his wife was so good with people. She'd be able to tell him when he fucked something up – as he expected he probably would.

His cell phone range just as he was about to exit the room. Peter anxiously picked up the phone when he saw that it was Hughes calling him, but he managed to keep his voice smooth and calm as he answered the phone. He didn't want to sound too hopeful, especially if Hughes had bad new to relay to him about his talk with the marshals.

"Peter? Hughes here. I spoke with the judge and the marshals. I've got some good news," Hughes said. He sounded pleased with himself, and Peter relaxed his shoulders. Hughes was hard on Caffrey sometimes but he cared. He had certainly proven that this evening. The director had pulled a ton of favors and put his own job on the line by vouching for both Peter and Neal.

The end result was that Neal was officially in protective custody (technically it was house arrest, but Peter didn't care as long as it wasn't jail) and would remain at the Burkes' for now. The potential danger of moving Neal had been considered, and everyone agreed that right now, the Burke residence was the safest place for him at the moment. They already had agents set up to watch the house and the street was secure. When they were sure June's home was safe from potential dangers Neal could return there if he chose until his hearing. Peter felt as if Hughes had lifted a weight from his chest. At least there was a tiny bit of good news today. He thanked his boss and promised to make sure that Neal understood the conditions of his release, and said goodnight.

Peter shut his phone and closed his eyes, allowing himself to absorb everything Hughes had said. It was imperative that he make sure Neal understood that more people could lose their jobs if he ran. He felt a little guilty for resorting to blackmail to keep Neal in line, but for now it was all he had. Now all he had to do was talk with his partner.

Quietly he made his way down the stairs so he wouldn't disturb Neal's rest if he was still sleeping. His caution was unnecessary however as he saw that the dark-haired man was propped up at the other end of the sofa, talking softly with Elizabeth and watching _House Hunters _with drowsy half-interest. One of his long legs dangled off the couch so he could rub Satchmo's back with his foot. The lab thumped his tail on the floor and let out a doggy moan of pleasure at the attention from Neal.

Peter paused at the bottom stair so he could study his partner without Neal noticing that he was being scrutinized. The younger man was attempting to put up a brave front by chatting softly with Elizabeth, but Peter knew him well enough to realize that his friend was hiding his emotions behind a cool façade. If he didn't know to look for the slight slump of the shoulders and the barely noticeable tension around the jaw and eyes, he might not even know Neal was upset.

The floor creaked slightly as Peter made his way over where Elizabeth was curled up on the chair. He brushed a kiss against her cheek and she gave him a tired smile while her eyes anxiously scanned over him, as if she were making certain that he was all there. Neal lifted a hand slightly but didn't look away from the television screen, as if he were too absorbed in what was happening to bother with a proper greeting. His jaw clenched a little tighter and he seemed to be purposely ignoring Peter.

Peter raised a brow at this new mood of their guest. He was expecting many things from Neal, but this was not one of them. He didn't understand what was wrong, and a glance at El told him she was as puzzled by Neal's behavior as he was. If he pushed, Neal would probably just clam up or give him some bullshit answer, so Peter did the only thing he could think of; he seated himself in the other chair and began watching the show with them. As soon as Peter had plunked himself in the chair, Neal had relaxed and twisted his head to look at him with a determined smile plastered on his face.

"We wondered where you'd gone," Neal said in a deceptively bland tone that made Peter's heart sink. He'd heard him sound like that before, back when then younger man had been convinced Peter was holding Kate hostage. The fake smile slid off his face and was replaced by a carefully blank expression. Neal was trying to put the masks back on, to dissemble his emotions and hide them but the haunted look in his blue eyes betrayed the pain he was in.

Some of Peter's concern must have shown on his face, because Neal looked away and made a devastatingly cutting comment about the wall paper in the home being shown on the television. The underlying desperation in his voice cut through Peter like a knife.

_He's trying too hard to be normal,_ Peter thought with a growing sense of alarm. _I have no idea how to fix this._ He wanted to tell Neal that it was all right, that he it was safe for him to fall apart here but he didn't think the younger man was ready to hear such sentiments yet. Besides, Peter didn't know how to tell him without accidentally insulting Neal, or worse, causing the other man to completely shut down.

"I think they'll pick house number two," Peter predicted. He wanted Neal to relax, and if that meant playing the game for a few minutes he would do it. He was rewarded by the small smile that tugged at Neal's lips. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared but Peter was willing to chalk this up as a victory. Any reaction besides stoic silence or the false smile Neal used when he was conning someone was a good thing.

"Yeah, me too," Neal said with a lack of enthusiasm. He sounded exhausted but when Peter's gaze sharpened on him, Neal just rolled his eyes and turned back to the television. Peter watched him quietly for a moment and tried to figure out what to do with this strange creature who had replaced his friend and partner. The harder Neal tried to hide his emotions, the more quickly his control cracked. Peter wasn't sure what he would do once that happened.

"I knew they would pick house number two," Neal said in a smug voice, as if he had been the one to suggest it rather than Peter. He tried to smile again, but it turned into a grimace of pain as he tried to sit up from his sprawled position on the sofa. Neal groaned and sank back onto the pillow, his face pale as his hand fluttered to his side.

The younger man winced as he made another attempt to sit up. Unable to stand the sight of Neal in so much pain, Peter moved to his partner's side, but Neal put a trembling hand up and managed to heave himself to a full sitting position as another soft groan escaped his lips. One hand remained on his side; his other hand scrubbed viciously at his eyes to wipe away the moisture gathering there. Peter reached out to steady him and to offer comfort, but Neal angrily shoved him away. They both froze in surprise at the forceful reaction, and Peter thought he heard El gasp.

"Don't. I'm fine," Neal snapped his voice harsh despite the horrified expression on his face. Peter hovered uncertainly, wavering between letting Neal be or helping him to his feet. Neal solved the problem by hunching in on himself, silently rejecting Peter's floundering effort to help. Unsure of what else to do, Peter slowly backed up and slumped into his chair, feeling embarrassed and hurt by Neal's behavior. He reminded himself of what Neal had been through the past day, and tried to maintain a hold on his temper. Neal didn't need guilt heaped on him, along with of everything else he was dealing with.

Awkward, heavy silence hung over the room broken only by an annoying jingle on the television for toilet paper and the wet sounds of Satchmo gnawing on the bone he'd found under the sofa. Peter tried to think of something to say to get them on even ground again, but he couldn't come up with anything useful. Neal needed to know that he wasn't upset; that he was safe here and could fall apart if he needed to. The words in his mind sounded sappy and he was pretty sure his delivery of them would further embarrass everyone.

Neal remained huddled against the back of the sofa for a few moments, his slender body so tense it makes Peter ache just to look at him. He could offer Neal nothing right now; there were no words to make him feel better, no ways to approach him without upsetting the young man even more. Elizabeth reached over and takes his hand, and Peter finally tears his gaze away from his partner to look at his wife. She gave him a gentle smile but before anything else could be done, Neal lurched gracelessly to his feet.

He moved slowly, as if every motion took effort. It crossed Peter's mind that he should help Neal but the stubborn, almost angry expression on the younger man's face stopped him cold. His partner didn't want his help, even if he needed it.

"I'm...I'll be back," Neal mumbled, his gaze refusing to meet their eyes, and gracelessly stumbled over to the stairs. Satchmo hopped to his feet and trotted after Neal, bone dangling loosely from his mouth as he followed the young man up the stairs.

Peter let him go.

**tbc**


End file.
